


Someday

by Harukami



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As time passes, it's only going to get more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someday

"Oh, what a handsome, nice young man! Is he your son?"

The first time they hear it is when Aoba is forty-three. He took over running Heibon when Haga retired almost ten years earlier exactly, and has expanded it considerably. It's more of a full parts shop now, specializing in rare and out of discontinued parts for allmates and other robotics. 

Aoba goes red. "Ah. No. No, he's--"

"I'm his husband." Clear, who is leaning on the counter and chatting with Aoba with a familiarity that must have inspired the question, straightens and gives the customer a blank smile.

Clear was designed to learn and integrate himself; gone are the days of bizarre behavior patterns or abnormal social responses, almost completely. The exception is when he's faced with a situation he hasn't encountered before; perhaps that explains the almost aggressive, defiant pose he's making while smiling in such a completely friendly and uncomprehending way.

"Oh," the customer says, and it's not their sex which inspires the sudden dubious, slightly disgusted look on her face, but something else, since she transfers her attention to Aoba for the judgmental stare.

They both understand, immediately, what it is, and Aoba says, "Can I help you find anything in particular today, ma'am?" while Clear turns and heads into the back.

After the customer is gone, Aoba finds Clear in the back, looking at himself in the mirror. His fingers pull at his unmarked, ageless cheeks, at the corner of his mouth, and he stares into his own eyes. Aoba is on his right, so he just waits a bit before Clear turns and notices him.

(It's strange and another non-human trait, his mismatched hearing. His left ear still has its incredible, unbelievable depth of hearing, but his right ear is completely deaf. Normally, since sound moves in waves, a person would just learn to compensate; if you can hear the heartbeat of someone five feet from you on your left, you can hear normal conversation on your right, through the left ear. Clear explained it once: Nobody can hear everything, because you'll be overcome through processing it. Humans filter out background noise too. Because of the disassociation between right and left ear, most of what happens on his right side gets filtered out as background noise to his left, so he's ended up with one super-powered side and one totally useless side in a way that would never happen with a human being. Aoba never brought it up again, and neither did Clear.)

"Ah," Clear says, when he sees Aoba standing there. "Aoba-san."

"Sorry about that. It's--"

"It's fine. It's only going to happen more," Clear says, smiling and frustrated, hands curling into fists at his side.

Aoba wants to argue it, but can't. What about in another ten years? Twenty? Thirty? When he's an old man, they'll ask if Clear's his grandson. Praise Clear for helping his old grandfather get around. 

"Clear." Ren pokes his head out from Aoba's bag. "Don't mind it."

"I don't," Clear says.

"You do, though," Aoba says.

"There's no helping it. The only way to not see this happen is to be apart," Clear says. "Someday it may come to that."

Aoba draws a sharp breath. "Are you saying you want to separate-?"

"Aoba," Ren says, cutting off Clear before he can protest. Aoba still listens more to Ren, even these days, and they both know it. "He's saying you might, some day."

Shaking his head, Aoba says, "I never will," and means it, but it's still an intimidating future. More and more, growing apart. 

When they get home after work, they have a rough, almost brutal sex, striving against each other and tangling and energetic and with hands and mouths everywhere. Aoba presses his hands against Clear's back, what feels like muscles there even know they're not; they move like it, they feel like it, they look like it, and even if they didn't, they're Clear's. Clear doesn't stop, past the time when he's tired, and he knows that's only going to get worse from here too, but for now he keeps going regardless because Clear needs it. 

It takes a while to tire Clear out, but when he does get tired, he gets almost too tired, pressing close and needy, tears -- or the saline solution he has instead of tears; it doesn't quite taste the same, but Aoba kisses them away gently and nuzzles his cheek and smiles at him. He pulls Clear even closer, holding him tight, and he lies, gently,

"It's going to be okay."


End file.
